


One Man Rescue Squad

by chinesebakery



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: A hint of Will, At someone else's expense, Bad Pick-Up Lines, Complicated cocktails, F/M, Failed pick-up artists, Fancy bars, Fluff, Not enough to deserve Character status, Prompt Fic, Rescue Missions, meet cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-30
Updated: 2016-06-30
Packaged: 2018-07-19 07:36:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7351897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chinesebakery/pseuds/chinesebakery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jemma's meeting Daisy for a drink in a fancy cocktail bar, but Daisy's late –again. Fortunately, Fitz is here to give her a hand fending off an unwanted suitor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Man Rescue Squad

**Author's Note:**

> Much thanks to jsimmonss for beta-reading.

Daisy was late. Again. It shouldn’t come as a surprise, really, but Jemma had punctuality carved into her DNA –the very thought of purposefully being late to balance things out had her breaking into a cold sweat.

She tried not to feel too incongruous, sitting stiffly on a ludicrously high stool by the bar. At least, she had a pretty good view from up there and as it was, there was a lot to take in. The place was ridiculous – _that_ shouldn’t come as a shock, either. Being the best friend of a quirky lifestyle blogger meant being dragged to one toxically hip place after the other, and this one was _everything_ Jemma had come to expect from Daisy’s latest finds.

No one else seemed to be objecting to the mismatched recycled furniture or the absurdly dim lightning. It was barely 7 and the place was thoroughly packed already. The patrons all fit the bill to a ’T’ –geometric jewelry for ladies, plaid shirts for gents, and several impressive handlebar moustaches on faces that looked too juvenile to be sporting that kind of dreadful hipster markers.

She and Daisy had been friends for years, but Jemma still couldn’t tell for sure if Daisy’s taste for the obnoxiously trendy was entirely ironic or not.

Stifling a sigh, Jemma gave the cocktail list a cursory read. As expected, every single drink required at least ten different ingredients, some of them likely challenging to pronounce. She tried not to wince at the price. On the bright side, there was very little risk for her to overindulge and pay the price in the morning.

Would the mixologist laugh in her face if she ordered a simple gin and tonic? Given that he was wearing silky grandpa pajamas and an impressive Dumbledore beard, Jemma thought that he might.

“Well, hello, there.” A dark-haired man Jemma had never seen before sat closely next to her –too close, really– and touched her hand briefly, demanding all her attention. The smile he shot her might as well have been a sneer.

Jemma disliked him on sight, stupid military-inspired jacket and all. It was the middle of summer, for goodness sake.

“Hi,” she replied with a tense smile of her own, silently cursing her parent for raising her to be so damn polite.

“I’m Will,” he informed her with another mean smile. “You’ve never been here before, have you? I’d remember. You’re so cute and short.”

“Jemma,” she replied, a little puzzled. “And no, I can’t say that I have.” _Hurry up, Daisy._

“Oh, you’re English,” he smirked. “How do you like it here, Jenny?” Again, he touched her shoulder again for no apparent reason.

“Hum, well.” Jemma crunched up her nose, leaning a little farther away from him and praising her last minute decision to wear a sleeved blouse despite the warm weather. “The cocktail list is impressive.” _Impressively pricey, maybe._

“Your eyes are lovely,” he continued, clearly ignoring her responses. “Are you wearing contacts?” Jemma’s eyes widened when he tipped her face up with his thumb. “You are, aren’t you?”

Oh, so he was one of _those_. That explained a lot.

What was it about this town? How come it held such a high concentration of creeps and so-called pick-up artists? Was there some kind of microclimate of stale testosterone and Axe Bodyspray?

She was about to give him a piece of her mind when another man unexpectedly invaded her personal space, worming himself in between her and Douchey Will.

Was it a new technique? Some kind of dual attack? She’d never been on the receiving end of one of those before but then again, she didn’t go out much –as Daisy relentlessly lamented– and usually had much better to do than scanning the most sordid nooks of the Internet to keep up.

“There you are,” the newcomer exclaimed in a heavy Scottish brogue. If he was a pick-up artist, he wasn’t a very good one, Jemma thought as she watched him rub the back of his neck, his face twitching. He looked at her imploringly before he said, “I’ve been looking all over for you. We were supposed to meet outside, remember?”

 _Oh._ So, he wasn’t ganging up on her with Will-the-Creep, after all. He was trying to save her, the dear boy. How sweet. Entirely unnecessary, but sweet.

Something must have registered on her face, for the interloper appeared to be perking up ever-so-slightly. His eyes crinkled when he smiled, she noticed. They were really, really blue.

He nodded once in acknowledgment and thoughtlessly scratched at his bristled cheek. Damn, he was _cute_.

“I was here at the rendezvous point, like we discussed!” Jemma replied, channeling all her Will-inspired irritation in her retort.

“Well.” He paused, a gleam coming to his eye. “We’ve got a lot to talk about.”

 _Nice touch,_ Jemma thought, her smile spreading wider. He might as well have told Jerkface to get lost already. In an impressively synchronized move, they both turned to said-jerk, looking at him expectantly.

“Oh.” Will glanced at one, then the other, his face a mask of spite as he wordlessly got to his feet. As he walked away, he muttered something that sounded suspiciously like a misogynistic curse. Jemma barely refrained from cackling at that.

They both watched him walk away in pleased silence.

Her rescuer finally turned to her, his face contorting into an odd mix of self-deprecating amusement and disgust. “I didn’t mean to intrude, but it looked like he was laying it a little heavily.I hope you didn’t mind.”

“No, I–”

“I don’t mean to imply you needed my help, okay, you look very capable and– it’s just–” He paused while his hand gestured agitatedly between them. “Huh, I’m sure people are hitting on you all the time– I mean, well–”

“ _Thank you,_ ” she said warmly, interrupting the increasingly muddled tirade. “I’m Jemma, by the way.”

“Fitz,” he said with a small sigh of relief.

Jemma had been ready to gently but firmly serve him some kind of ‘I can save myself, thank you very much’ speech, but it appeared there was no need for that after all. When was the last time she’d been pleasantly surprised by a man? Before she could second-guess herself, she asked, “Can I offer you a thank-you drink, Fitz?”

“Okay.” His smile was blinding. It was a child’s smile, joyful and unguarded. Jemma found it incredibly infectious.

He hopped on the stool next to hers and grabbed the cocktail list.

Jemma watched in delight as Fitz’s brow crunched in confusion as he scanned down the list –his face and hands were restless, it seemed, and it was a mesmerizing sight– until she felt a tap on her shoulder and Daisy suddenly appeared at her side, breathless and slightly disheveled.

“I’m so, so sorry,” Daisy stressed, her face the very picture of contrition. “Would you believe me if I said Lincoln urgently needed my help to locate something in my bedroom?”

“Eww.” Jemma gave her an exaggerated grimace of disgust. “Please do _not_ tell me more.”

“Hey, you’re the one who’s immediately jumping to conclusion, Pervy,” Daisy smirked, her remorse fast forgotten.

Fitz cleared his throat. “I’m sorry,” he told Jemma, “I didn’t know you were expecting company. I mean, I should have guessed. Not that I’m implying–”

“Fitz,” Jemma cut him off with a soothing smile. “This is my friend Daisy. Daisy, this is Fitz.”

“Hi, Daisy,” he waved awkwardly.

“Well, hello there,” Daisy trailed, her pointed interrogative stare aimed solely at Jemma.

“Fitz rescued me from a dreadful seduction attempt earlier.”

“Oh, did he, now?” Daisy bit her lip, clearly itching to say more. “Oww,” she only said, rubbing her shin theatrically. Damn, she was a drama queen. It had been a very gentle kick.

“I should probably leave you to it,” Fitz said ruefully, sliding off his sit.

“No, no,” Daisy exclaimed. “Please stay! I wouldn’t want to chase Jemma’s personal rescue squad away. She’d never forgive me,” she added airly for her friend’s benefit.

Fitz looked torn. “Do you– I mean–”

“I’d really like you to stay, Fitz,” Jemma offered gingerly, wincing at the touch of desperation in her voice. "You should have your thank-you drink, at least.“

“I’m not fancy enough for this place,” he admitted with a self-conscious chuckle. “Do you think they have beer?”

***

When Mack, Fitz’s friend, eventually showed up a few minutes later, he and Daisy hit it off so fast, the four of them eventually decided to have dinner together. Daisy knew the perfect place –she always did.

Jemma thought her friend’s choice of restaurant was a little odd –the place looked absolutely perfect for a first date, but wasn’t what she would have picked for a dinner between friends. She was more than willing to roll with it, however –nothing in her book beat good food and fine conversation. And there was no finer conversation than Fitz’s.

Daisy had to excuse herself after receiving a –somewhat suspicious– ‘work-related text’ shortly after she’d finished her entrée. As she left, she kissed Jemma’s cheek, which was unusual for them, and whispered in her ear that she was happy for her.

Mack suffered a terrible attack of migraine the moment after eating his last fry, and had to leave in a hurry as well. If Fitz had his suspicions regarding the sudden defection of their friends, he didn’t say. As for Jemma, she made a mental note to send Daisy a gift card from somewhere trendy the next day.

***

They had dessert at his place. And breakfast the next morning, as well.

**Author's Note:**

> Anonymous asked for the following prompt: "You rescued me from the creepy person that was hitting on me in the bar."
> 
> Find me on Tumblr –I'm chinese-bakery over there.


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